Molded PlayDoh
by love-fool
Summary: Right and wrong matters at times, yet it doesn't. Life is all about using what life gives you to it's advantage. [Song fic]


[Disclaimer: I do not own the television series "Lizzie McGuire" or Madonna's "Like a prayer". If I did, Parker and Danny Kessler would have their own show. Mwah.]

[A/N: Please bear with me…this is kind of a weird trippy song fic. Please, read it with an open mind. Thank you.]

_Life is a mystery_

_Everyone must stand alone  
I hear you call my name  
And it feels like home_

I sighed forlornly as I continued to listen to Mr. Dig ramble on profusely about the wonders of Shakespeare's "Macbeth". Okay, so I didn't actually give a crap about what was going on in that story, nor did I know. I wasn't one for paying attention in classes or to what was going on. In fact, this was the only one of my classes that I actually attempted to pay attention in. Well…I did pay attention in gym so I wouldn't get knocked unconscious by dodge balls courtesy of the she-male, Jennie Woods. 

Other than that, there is no other reason to pay attention.

I'm not really one for doing the right thing. I don't pay attention to what's going on in my classes. I don't make the right decisions, like being a superficial idiot. For future reference, don't bring up David Gordon again. That whole eight grade incident is finally pushed to farthest corners of the back of my mind, thank you very much. I've moved on from that. Moving on is good…sometimes. Yet again, moving on is a part of life. You're not supposed to dwell on one part of your worthless life forever. Of course not, you have other sad and pathetic parts to dwell on. It's an endless cycle of dwelling and what not. Holy shit, aren't I a regular Freud? Except you know…not.

"Miss McKenzie," Mr. Dig snapped me out of my trance. He had a way of doing that. I give props to him. Yet again…no. There is no way that I'm going to say it. You people will think I'm weirder than I already am! No!

_When you call my name_

_ It's like a little prayer  
I'm down on my knees_

_I wanna take you there  
In the __midnight__ hour I can feel your power_

_Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there_

"Huh," I asked while I furrowed my eyebrow in confusion. Why the hell was he talking to me? 

He sighed as he lowered his glasses, "Did you hear a word I just said?"

I, of course, shook my head. I knew very well that lying wouldn't make this somewhat embarrassing situation better. No, then he'd ask if I could tell the entire class what he said. Standard procedure of a teacher, it's like they have this big ass handbook of how to embarrass their students.

Speaking of asses…

God damn it, Parker, stop it! You're going to accidentally spill your secret to everyone, that is after you stop talking and thinking to yourself in the third person. I'm weird enough as is, but this just makes me the main attraction in the freak show we like to call "Hill Ridge High School". It's a regular variety show, the school that is. Each hour of the show, a different group performs. I'm not even scheduled, since I really don't belong in any group. Therefore, I'm just floating around in obscurity while no one really cares. If I suddenly died, it wouldn't be a big catastrophe. Yet again, I really don't want to die. Sure, last year there was this period of time where I just wanted to curl up in a fetal position and hide, but that's changed. I have something to live for right now. 

I'm pathetic. Let's spell it out. P-a-t-h-e-t-i-c.

How can a girl be so completely loopy for someone? Well, I can tell you how. I won't tell you who I'm loopy for though. No way, Jose, I so will not tell you. If I did have a moment of stupidity, then I would replace the nerds who fish for presents in their noses and become the girl who is in love with the substitute teacher. No, not that Mr. Keith guy that we had in eight grade. Fortunately, I wasn't like those lemmings that made him butterscotch and read books so they would discuss them. In fact, I didn't even go to that poetry reading. What a crock of shit. I had no reason for going. Mr. Dig wasn't there.

Yes, the weird wench known as Parker McKenzie is in love with Mr. Dig. I honestly couldn't get any weirder, now could I? Well, I did. It was possibly for the class freak to get freakier. But honestly, how can you _not be in love with Mr. Dig? He's weird, yes. He's also smart and witty. He's certainly more interesting to talk to than wallpaper, though I haven't had the chance to have a real conversation with him. No, I'm too busy floating around in obscurity._

_I hear your voice, it's like an angel sighing  
I have no choice, I hear your voice  
Feels like flying  
I close my eyes, Oh God I think I'm falling  
Out of the sky, I close my eyes  
Heaven help me_

"Miss McKenzie," He started off again. Why did he feel the need to call everyone "Mister" and "Miss"? It was the kind of I wanted to ask him sometime when we were alone. Yeah, like that would happen anytime soon. That's only something that's happened in my dreams.

I've said too much now.

"Yeah," I asked as I tried not to stare at him intently. Instead I focused on the sign that was hanging freely above the blackboard. It was one of those cheesy sayings that were often placed on posters in classrooms, as seen right now. "What is popular isn't always right and what's right isn't always popular", I swear to god the people who made those signs were puffing way too much of the magic dragon. Do they honestly believe that our eyes will fall upon those atrocious signs long enough to read them and have the meanings of the phrases sink in? Idiots.

"It's kind of obvious that you're not interested in me or Macbeth," He started. Was the man a _complete idiot_? Sometimes, he makes me so mad that I questioned why in heaven's name that I was in a deep like with him? Or was it love? No, love was too strong of a word. But before I said that I was in love with him. I'm just screwed up, okay? So don't listen to what I have to say.

"So is third period a…inconvenience for you to give your attention to Macbeth? Because you could always pay attention after school," He tried to be subtle about giving me detention. Mr. Dig was all about illusion, subtly, and getting us to think. He was like a painting of a plain black square that you'd see at a museum and wonder what the hell the artist was thinking when they painted that. He was like that painting, except that he was more interesting to say the least, of course.

I coughed slightly, "Sorry, Mr. Dig. I'll…be there."

Of course I would be there. It would be time after school where there was a good chance that I was alone with Mr. Dig. I had been wishing and hoping for this afternoon to happen for about a year now. The fact that he's about thirty or so and I'm sixteen doesn't really matter. Age is just a number. If Anna Nicole Smith can be with an older guy, then why can't I? Oh wait, it's illegal for me and not for her. Damn it.

_Like a child you whisper softly to me  
You're in control just like a child  
Now I'm dancing  
It's like a dream, no end and no beginning  
You're here with me, it's like a dream  
Let the choir sing_

The rest of the day seemed to all blur together like the paint on an artist's palette. Nothing mattered besides the fact that I was going to be along with Mr. Dig in a classroom after school. As much as I wanted everything that had occurred in the dreams that took place in my demented brain, I had to face reality that they weren't. The only place that everything I wanted to happen would happen would be in my dreams and fantasies. In life, it never gives you what you want, you get what you get and you have to deal with it. If you didn't get the red play-doh and Johnny did, then that doesn't mean that the whole four years of your life so far is a complete catastrophe. No, it means that you have to deal with the fact that you got the yellow. So basically what I'm saying is that I don't have a reason to be complaining. No, it's just a pathetic combination of words and thoughts that shouldn't exist. I'll shut up now.

I trudged into the vacant classroom, well vacant except for Mr. Dig. But he was just sitting at his desk correcting yesterday's test on the first act of Macbeth. I probably failed that, since I really don't have any idea of who the characters are or what's going on, but you already knew that, didn't you? I just sit there lost in my world of Technicolor dreams during class. I wonder why I'm passing right now. Oh well.

_When you call my name it's like a little prayer  
I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there  
In the midnight hour I can feel your power  
Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there_

"Oh," He spoke up and broke the silence like a glass that had been dropped on the floor. "I…didn't see you come in. I'm assuming you're here for your detention?"

God, he could be such an idiot at times. Or maybe he liked playing dumb. Maybe he was like Socrates and made us question things. Or maybe he was just weird, like me.

"Yeah," I said without realizing that I had just rolled my eyes. Of course I didn't mean it as an offense or whatever; I did it a lot out of sheer habit. I got out my notebook along with a pen chocked full of purple ink. Maybe I could just zone out for this hour and draw, like I normally would during class. Or maybe I could actually do something about this…feeling that I've had for a year. Yet again, I should probably face the reality that what I'm thinking is wrong and my dreams and fantasies will never happen, except in my demented head. 

Screw that!

Maybe watching Lolita will pay off. Wait…I never watched that. I only heard about it from my mom when they yelled at my sister for finding it on the television and watching it. My mother is the absolute devil when it comes to censoring us from anything she deems as inappropriate. Well, she can just go deem her own daughter as inappropriate. We'll see how much she likes that, abandoning her own daughter.

Sighing, I picked myself up from my sketch of the _Cruel Intentions_ movie poster that I had been attempting to sketch for the past month in purple pen. It looked pretty damn good, even though there wasn't much to it yet.

_Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there  
Just like a muse to me, you are a mystery  
Just like a dream, you are not what you seem  
Just like a prayer, no choice your voice can take me there_

I couldn't explain why I had gotten up from my desk and was sauntering towards Mr. Dig's desk. It was like I was a robot being programmed to carry out a terrorist mission. I wanted so badly as to just turn around and sit down, but I couldn't. I _had_ to do whatever it was that I was about to do. The only problem was that I didn't know what I was about to do.

"Did you correct my test yet," I asked curiously.

"Not yet," Mr. Dig sighed as he sorted a paper into what I assumed to be the pile of tests that had already been corrected. "Why are you so eager to find out your grade?"

I shrugged, "Just wondering."

"Oh," He said as he began to correct another test. "Why don't you go and sit back down?"

"What's the point of detention," I asked suddenly. He looked up from Lizzie McGuire's test that had absolutely no red marks on it and just stared. He himself probably didn't know what the point of it was. He never really seemed to understand or like the concept of tests, yet he gave them anyway. He was like one of those puzzle pieces that you couldn't get to fit in and complete your puzzle because of some manufacturing error.

"I don't know, Miss McKenzie," He said honestly. "It's supposed to punish you, yet again how does keeping someone after school for an additional hour torture when most likely they'll be there the next day. Hmm?"

"Oh," I said as though I was seven years old again and had just found out where babies come from. "The test you gave…it was opinion based, right? Well, how come some people might get questions wrong if they wrote their opinions and opinions are never wrong?"

He lowered his glasses, "Because you need to have facts to back up your opinion." He paused for a minute to chuckle. "If you were this inquisitive during class, then I wouldn't have given you detention for not paying attention." 

Everything during the next few seconds was a complete blur to me, but I can summarize my actions. All I really knew was that I had somehow climbed up on top of the desk and had become involved in a heated kiss with the tenth grade English teacher, Mr. Dig. He didn't seem to want to stop; maybe it was because I had given the poor man a heart attack. He never expected that to happen, not at all. Unless of course, there was something I desperately needed to know about.

"AHEM," I heard a gruff voice buzz around my head and interrupt my moment of sheer ecstasy that I was having. "Excuse me, but what is going on here?!"

Why? Why did it never occur to me that the bull like principal of Hill Ridge High might pop into the classroom at any given time? Why? Immediately, I hopped off the desk and ran back to my desk

"I can explain," Mr. Dig started off before being interrupted by Miss Ungermeyer.

She chuckled, "Then do so. I'm interested to see how you explain the fact that you were coming on to one of your students!"

"Excuse me," Mr. Dig said not believing what she had accused him of.

"I think that I need," I couldn't understand the rest of what Miss Ungermeyer was attempting to say. All her words were blurred together into what sound like the grunting of a mountain gorilla. I started feeling light headed and eventually slowly slumped out of the chair and fell down to the cold lineolum floor. I think it was because of two things: the shock of what I had just done finally fell on me like a bunch of bricks and the fact that there were consequences to my actions. I kind of knew the latter one to begin with, but it never really dawned on me.

Life had given me that moment to seize, and I did so. I made my yellow play-doh into a masterpiece. Sadly though, Kelly sat on the masterpiece. 

Oh well.

_Just like a prayer, I'll take you there  
It's like a dream to me_


End file.
